


a dream of a ship that was sailed in the night

by Pinkmanite



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternative Universe / AU, M/M, Sky Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite
Summary: “Same sky, same stars,” Nicke says, words familiar on his tongue.Andre grins, and Nicke doesn’t need to see him or feel him to know.





	a dream of a ship that was sailed in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xabier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xabier/gifts).



Nicke doesn’t quite know how they got here.

That is, _here_ , where Andre fits so comfortably in his lap like it’s where he’s meant to be. Where Andre crawls into his space like second nature, without Nicke having to ask and without Andre having to seek him out. Here, where it could actually be anywhere, but it’s them, together, that makes it _here_.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Andre resettles until he’s slotted against Nicke like he’s a puzzle piece, clicked correctly in his place. Apologetically, Nicke presses their lips together, lazy and chaste, but just as electrifying as every kiss shared between them.

He smiles, and Andre doesn’t miss it. He hums, content, then rolls his head until it rests easily on Nicke’s shoulder. He’s facing up now, but he doesn’t mind, happy to stare up at the stars, where they twinkle in between wisps of purple-grey clouds.

“Same sky, same stars,” Nicke says, words familiar on his tongue.

Andre grins, and Nicke doesn’t need to see him or feel him to know.

 

* * *

_SOME TIME PRIOR . . ._

* * *

 

Actually, Nicke isn’t the one to find him. Alex is.

It makes sense, because Alex is doing a full sweep of the ship, as a captain does. They’re leaving the port, more or less in a hurry because no one wants to be docked here for long. In fact, Alex almost doesn’t spot him in his haste.

But Alex does, and Alex drags him to the deck for everyone to see.

And that’s how Nicke meets Andre for the very first time.

“Found this one hiding with the oranges,” Alex announces, shoving Andre forward. “Anyone care to explain how he got there?”

The crew looks sheepish, and no one will meet Alex’s eye. Nicke crosses his arms and does his best to look disappointed, which seems to please Alex enough. Enough to spur him on.

But then the boy speaks up. “I snuck in myself, thanks.” Snarky.

“Oh?” Alex redirects his attention to the boy. “Think you’re smart?”

The boy blinks up innocently at him.

Nicke watches carefully, sees the challenge start to build in Alex. But he sees the glint in the boy’s eye and it’s... intriguing, to say the least. So he decides to let this play out, curious enough to see where this goes.

“Not really,” the boy shrugs, “it doesn’t take a genius to walk onto this boat.”

Oh boy.

Alex frowns. “This is one of the finest ships in the sky—”

“I’m sure it is,” the boy interrupts, “but I just walked on.”

But as Alex frowns harder, the boy gets a little brighter, a little bit more confident. He leans in close to Alex, just a bit, just until their sides are pressing and any illusion of control has been shattered. Nicke is mildly impressed.

And apparently so is Alex.

He raises a brow, really looks the boy over for the first time. “And why is that?”

The boy shrugs. “Running from some guards,” he says, honest enough. But he smiles a little, just at the corners, and it’s a hint of pride about him that he just can’t seem to swallow. It’s captivating.

“And why were they after you?” Nicke finally speaks up, more level than Alex. The boy looks over at him, and Nicke is surprised to see him wide-eyed and round-faced, underneath all his gusto.

“I’m not their favorite person,” the boy settles on. Nicke is about to question him further but then he opens his mouth again. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to see a pirate ship.”

And it’s that moment that he pauses to look around, to really look around, and it’s almost vulnerable, the way he looks out on the sky like he’s never seen it before. Nicke remembers the first time he’d ever been in flight, all those years ago, and it’s almost like watching himself; full of wonder and awe and sheer disbelief despite seeing the ground below and the clouds surrounding them.

Nicke looks to Alex, who’s already watching him, waiting for him to meet his eye. He and Alex have known each long enough, well enough, to read each other correctly. So Nicke nods, and Alex hears him loud and clear.

“So tell me, what exactly did you expect when you climbed aboard a pirate ship, boy?”

The boys sheds the wonder from his face easily enough, and replaces it with the same sly smile, his walls built right back up. “To become a pirate, of course.”

Alex grins, and then he laughs, and it’s enough to get the rest of the crew joining in, raucous and rowdy. The boy looks unsure, but then Alex grins at him and holds out a hand, yanks him back up to his feet.

“Welcome aboard, boy.”

The boy grins, sly, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Actually, my name’s Andre.”

 

~

 

In retrospect, Nicke should’ve seen it coming.

Alex comes up to him before breakfast, corners him in the hallway and everything, with a shit-eating grin.

“Nicke, I have a present for you,” he says, maybe a little bit too cheery.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it,” Nicke says, cautious.

“Nope, this one is no returns,” Alex insists. “Only the best for my best first mate.”

Yeah, no, Nicke definitely doesn’t want this one. “No thank you.” He tries to push past Alex, but Alex sidesteps and effectively blocks him.

“Our new sailor needs supervision, no?”

Nicke openly glares. “You wouldn’t.”

But Alex grins, and it’s quite obvious that he would. “Come on, Nicke, you’ll be good for him, I know you will.” He wraps an arm around Nicke’s shoulders, pats him twice.

Nicke should put his foot down. Nicke should keep refusing. Nicke should say no.

“Fine,” Nicke says instead.

Alex just smiles, like he knew Nicke would give in all along. “See? Best first mate.”

“Mhm,” Nicke rolls his eyes. “Where is he now?”

“Terrorizing the crew,” Alex grins, “better go get your breakfast.”

And with that, Alex is gone before Nicke can ask any more questions.

 

~

 

By the time Nicke gets to the mess deck, Andre is happily perched at the head of the table, cheeks rosy yet tankard still full. He’s easily stealing wedges of fruit from various different crew members, who are, of course, fully aware and willing, completely mesmerized by the boy. Nicke sighs, frustrated, and is ready to curse out the entire crew for it.

Nicke clears his throat, loudly, and the room quiets.

“What’s going on here?”

Nobody moves, nobody except for Andre, who takes a swig out of his tankard, fearless.

“Just breakfast,” Andre says, cheeky. “There’s oranges,” he offers.

“I know there’s oranges,” Nicke says, short. “In fact, there’s just enough for every member of this crew to have just enough in their rations to combat scurvy. Did you know that?” Nicke defocuses from Andre and looks around the room. “Did _you_ know that?”

Ah, and again with the sheepish looks, the ones where they stare into their grog and refuse to meet his eye.

But Andre looks around the room and makes a face, mouth in a line. “I didn’t know, it’s my fault,” he says, determined. “Don’t blame them—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Nicke interrupts him. “They know better, even with your terrible influence.”

“Come on, Backy,” someone says, “don’t be so harsh, he’s—”

“Sit down, Wilson,” Nicke says, cold. Tom freezes, then sits right away, mouth shut, unused to Nicke like this. Nicke’s about to start scolding them again, but someone is shifting through the crowd, and it’s Andre, making his way to him.

“I really am sorry,” Andre says, once he’s close enough to Nicke that he can whisper. “I just I got carried away?”

Nicke scoffs, unconvinced, but he sees the de-escalation for what it is and respects that enough to let Andre do whatever it is he’s doing. He grabs him b the nape of his neck and leads him out.

He pauses, right as they reach the doorway, and turns his neck to shout over his shoulder. “This place better be spotless when I get back.”

“Aye,” his crew choruses, and Nicke knows he’s regained control.

Now just to deal with the kid.

 

~

 

“Ovi’s been nicer to you than he usually is to stowaways,” Nicke scolds, once he’s pulled Andre out of the galley and onto the deck, a quiet corner out of sight from the helmsman on duty. The rest of the crew is still below deck, leaving them to themselves.

“I got carried away,” Andre tries to explain. The cool air of the skies have sobered him up for the most part, but his cheeks are pinker in the breeze, his eyes still a little glossy.

“You know what happens to most of the rats we find on this ship?” Nicke keeps pushing, maybe a little meanly now. “Do you?”

“No,” Andre says obediently.

Nicke grabs him by the arms and spins him around until he’s facing the railings and overlooking the clouds. He pushes the back of his head a little roughly, but just enough until Andre’s peering over the edge, down and down and down, all the way down to the little dots of civilization peppering the earth’s surface so far below.

“You’re a smart kid, Andre. What do you think?” Nicke asks again.

Andre gulps. “Walk the plank?”

Nicke yanks him back, and is satisfied with the look on Andre’s face. He dusts off Andre’s shirtsleeves and, when satisfied, crosses his arms, grim, but not nearly as frustrated as before.

“It’s a long way down, remember that, kid.”

And that’s how Nicke leaves him, alone on the deck and a long way up from the ground.

 

~

 

Andre’s been on his best behavior, but he isn’t completely off the hook.

Nicke brings him the bucket and mop with a grin on his face, and really, that’s enough signal on its own for Andre to know that he’s fucked.

“I want it spotless,” Nicke grins, handing off the tools of torture, “from top to bottom.”

“Come on,” Andre whines, “it’s a _pirate_ ship.”

Nicke laughs. “We’re pirates, not animals. Ovi likes a tightly run, squeaky clean vessel. There’s standards.”

Andre holds the mop in his hands, looks at it helplessly as he weighs it in his hands.

“Oh, and try not to waste too much water,” Nicke shrugs. “We’re not docking for a while, and the skies are going to be pretty clear from here on out.” He waves around vaguely at the sky, which is ridiculously blue and ridiculously clear.

Still trying to grin and bear it, Andre does his best to not let his disdain show, but fails miserably He’s an open book and Nicke is getting more and more used to reading his pages.

“I have a ship to run,” Nicke says, “So I’ll leave you to it.”

“Right,” Andre continues to stare at the mop.

“Remember, top to bottom,” Nicke says as he goes. “Sparkling.”

“Sparkling,” Andre repeats.

Nicke doesn't have to look back to know he’s still trying to come to terms with the mop.

 

~

 

The thing is, Nicke really does have a ship to run, so he doesn’t actually have time to check in on Andre throughout the day. Instead, he spends the majority of the afternoon hunched over the table in the Captain’s quarters, going over the piles of maps and star charts over and over again.

Equally as frustrated, Alex paces back and forth, shuffling through the papers restlessly, flipping through books he’s already read through a million times over.

“If it’s not at the next port, then I’m out of ideas,” Alex slams the book shut, and flings it in the general direction of the bookcase.

“It’ll be there,” Nicke says, sure as sure. “We’ve gone over this clue at least ten times, I’m sure this is it.”

“But what if it’s not,” Alex huffs, plopping into his chair. “What then, Nicke? I’m tired of searching for this damn thing.”

“No you’re not,” Nicke replies easy, doesn’t even look up from the star chart he’s working on. “You’ll die before you give up on finding Stanley.”

Alex knows he’s right, but he plays it up, throws his head back in his chair. “But Nicke.”

“We’ll find the next clue at the next port. I’ve never been this sure. And I haven’t been wrong yet.”

“I’m getting old,” Alex kicks at the wall, then the book he’d just thrown. It’s a grasp at nothing, and that’s how Nicke knows he’s almost won.

“And?” Nicke pushes. “We’re going to find The Stanley Grail.” He looks at Alex expectantly.

“And we’ll be the greatest pirates who ever sailed the skies,” Alex finishes, practiced. “I know, Nicke, I know.”

“Good,” Nicke finally sits up, sets the star chart down, and looks at Alex. “Now come here and double check my route.”

Alex gets up and comes, however begrudgingly, and Nicke calls it a small victory.

 

~

 

Nicke collects Andre when it’s times for supper, and is surprised to find him lounging around the topdeck, wind in his hair and sleeves rolled up, shooting the shit with some of the crew.

“Finished already?” Nicke tuts, only half-joking and mostly suspicious.

But Andre brightens at his voice, grins at him, even.

“Top to bottom,” he beams, “Sparkling.”

His buddies start to disperse and Andre bids them farewell, carefree. He’s back to his normal self, calm and collected and back in control.

But Nicke doesn’t fall for it yet. He has yet to do a round, and he’s ready to call out Andre on even the slightest slip up. If only because that’s what it takes to be part of this crew.

“Well, show me then,” Nicke says, nods at Andre to lead the way. But the smile on Andre’s face never falters, and he’s more than happy to gracefully hop down from his perch, light on his feet.

“Of course,” Andre agrees, “follow me.”

And, curious, Nicke does.

Andre walks him through his route, a little smug but mostly proud of himself. Mostly eager to show off his work to Nicke. And really, it’s nothing special, but Andre just keeps beaming at him, genuine, and it’s enough to put Nicke in good spirits.

“And this spot,” Andre ushers him over to some corner in the crew quarters, waves at a square of floor like it’s especially important. “There was a stain but I got it out, and I didn’t waste water, I swear.”

Nicke glances at the spot, but it looks non-spectacular. Andre is pretty excited about it, though, and he’s proving to be pretty infectious, so Nicke nods along, and pats Andre on the back.

“Good work, kid,” he says.

But Andre pauses, frowns a little, but not enough to actually be upset. “Stop calling me that, I’m not a kid.”

“Hm?” Nicke makes a face at him, amused.

“I’m not, I’m not just a kid. I can be a real part of this crew.” And Andre’s still frowning, but Nicke thinks he could classify it as a pout. He doesn’t say it, though, despite how much he knows it’ll push Andre’s buttons.

Instead, Nicke looks him over, for real this time, and Andre is determined as ever, ready to prove himself ten times over.

“Perhaps,” Nicke says, still content to keep him hanging. “But for now, go get your supper.”

Andre isn’t completely content, but the frown falls from his face and he’s still a predictable young man, which is, content with the idea of food after a day of work.

Nicke doesn’t tell him twice, and before he knows it, Andre is on his was to the galley, already recollecting his entourage of crewmen, drawn to him like a light.

It’s interesting, how Nicke never realized how dark it was before.

 

~

 

It’s a smooth sail today, the longest stretch in one direction until the next port, so Alex calls the entire crew to deck and declares it a sparring day.

Nicke finds Andre easily enough and tosses him a sword. It’s rusty and old but it’ll do for now. Which is what he has to say when Andre looks it over in distaste.

“It’s just to spar,” Nicke rolls his eyes. “Be thankful, we used to give a wooden rod to Wilson over there.” He nods to where Wilson’s busy inspecting his current blade in the sunlight. “You’ll make do.”

Andre isn’t really paying attention, though, busy studying the sword and testing out the grip.

“You ever use one of those before?” Nicke asks, a little more seriously now.

“Once or twice,” Andre murmurs, still focused on the sword. He finally settles on a grip but is now focused on weighing it in his hand, similarly to how he had treated the mop.

“Would you like me to show you how? Just the basics?” Because at the end of the day, Andre is still Nicke’s responsibility, and that’s the least he can do

But Andre shakes his head, stubborn. “I’ll figure it out.”

Nicke makes a disbelieving sound. He’s about to argue, especially with the way Andre starts swishing the thing around, but then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and Nicke is faced with Alex, who is looking Andre up and down, amused.

“Let him,” Alex reassures him. “If he wants to figure it out, he’ll figure it out.”

Still not completely convinced, Nicke is hesitant, but recognizes that Alex is right. Andre is stubborn and if he won’t take Nicke’s advice, that’s that. “You sure, Andre?”

“Mhm,” Andre replies, distracted now.

Nicke is about to say something else, but Alex starts to tug him away.

“It’s just a spar,” Alex reassures him, “let him get his ass handed to him, he’ll learn.”

So Nicke lets it play out, despite his personal better judgement.

Alex matches Andre against Tom, which is fair enough, because Tom has taken a liking to the kid, has more or less taken him under his wing, and will probably go easy enough on him.

What nobody expects, however, is the possibility that maybe Tom isn’t the one that has to go easy.

Andre is awkward at first, with the way the sword rests in his grip, a little too short for his build and little too weighty for his liking. But once he gets the first couple of parries — miscalculated and clumsy — out of the way, it’s apparently enough for him to properly to readjust.

He doesn’t hold back.

Andre’s form is a little off, but it’s mostly there. He’s unpracticed, maybe a bit rusty, but he keeps his spine straight and his stance well-placed. He doesn’t trip over his feet, carefully stepping strategically, until he has Tom backed up against the railing with the rusty tip of his sword pointed at his throat.

It’s not easy, though, Tom does get plenty of taps in, mostly on Andre’s left side, where he’s a little bit weaker in his defense. His blocks need a little work, but it’s more an issue of building his strength, which will come naturally when Nicke gets him working on the sails.

There’s plenty of room for improvement, but nevertheless, Nicke is left surprised, speechless, and disappointed in no one but himself for underestimating Andre yet again.

By the time Alex calls their session to a close, Andre is panting, layered in a sheen of cool sweat, hair damp and curling even more wildly at the ends. Nicke slaps him on the back and grins.

“Remind me what you did before you wandered aboard a pirate ship?”

“Made trouble,” Andre answers easily, laughs with it. “Like I said, not the guards’ favorite person.”

Nicke just shakes his head as he laughs, doesn’t try to push it any further. “You did good, but we’ll have to work on that left side.”

Andre rolls his eyes, but his smile is still there, his pride bubbling at Nicke’s praise.

“It’s not me, it’s this thing,” Andre switches his grip on the sword then holds it out for Nicke to take. “Get me something that I can actually use and I’ll sparring _you_ in no time,” Andre bumps into him, cheeky.

Nicke takes the sword, but bumps him back.

“We’ll see about that, Mr. Big Talk.”

Andre just hums, the challenge in him already brewing.

 

~

 

Like most things with Andre, Nicke should’ve known he’d be eating his words.

Andre becomes obsessed; he races to finish his chores and tasks of the day so he can carve out enough time in the afternoon to bug someone into sparring with him, keen to practice and practice until his partner of the day grows tired of him.

Nicke’s busy, as he usually is, when Andre eventually seeks him out.

“Spar with me,” Andre tugs at him, even as Nicke pointedly ignores him in favor of focusing on today’s atlas.

“Go bother someone else,” Nicke shrugs him off. “I’m doing research.”

Andre huffs, petulant. He grabs the book from Nicke’s hands. “You’re a pirate,” he whines, “what could you possibly be researching?”

But Nicke is quick, and snatches the book right back. “The Stanley Grail.”

This doesn’t seem to phase Andre, who goes back to tugging at his sleeves. “Very funny, but I know it’s not real. You can’t just brush me off with childrens’ stories.”

Nicke raises a brow at him. “I’m not joking, I’m serious.”

Andre rolls his eyes. “Look if you don’t want to spar with me, just tell me.”

“No really,” Nicke tilts the atlas so Andre can see the scribble of notes in the margins, the markings he and Alex have left on worn pages. “What do you think we do here? We’re after the Stanley Grail.”

There’s a beat where Andre pauses, just blinks at him. “Wait, you’re serious.” It’s not a question, but instead an observation.

Nicke glares at him, just a little. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“But it’s not real,” Andre pushes, incredulous, “it’s just a legend.”

“For most people yes,” Nicke says, patient now. “But we’ve been hunting it down for years now. Clue by clue. And I believe we’re in our final stretch.”

“Clue by clue?”

“Mhm,” Nicke confirms, returning to the atlas. “We’re on the third clue.”

“Third?” Andre exclaims. “You’ve already found the the first two?”

“Of course,” Nicke beckons him closer, then taps two spots on the world map, inked over with a prominent scribble of a star. “We’re almost there.”

Andre still looks suspicious, like he’s expecting someone to jump out and yell surprise, to announce that they’re just fucking with him and that he’s laughably gullible. But the moment never comes, and Andre begins to accept it.

But, not completely.

“Okay, but you’ve been working on the clue for a while right?” And he’s back to pulling at Nicke’s sleeve. “Take a break and spar with me? Please? I want to get better.”

Nicke shakes his head. After all that, and the boy still persists. He sighs.

“Fine, but it’s going to be quick.”

Andre lights up immediately, grinning from ear to ear. “Yes!”

 

~

 

In the time since Andre’s duel with Tom, Nicke’s managed to find Andre a better sword, not quite proper for him but definitely an upgrade from the piece of rust he’d been working with before.

“I have something for you, actually,” he says, once they get to the arsenal.

Andre looks at him suspiciously. “Nicke…”

But Nicke ignores him, pushes past him to get at the rack of arms. He spots it immediately, a silver rapier, and plucks it from its spot.

“Here,” Nicke holds it out to him. “Try this one out.”

Andre doesn’t take it at first, looks at Nicke, trying to find the catch. “Really?”

Nicke nods. “Take it before I change my mind.”

So Andre does, grips it, then adjusts. He studies it, gives it a couple experimental flicks in the opposite direction. Then he grins.

“Man, just when I started getting used to the other one,” he says, cheeky.

“Well you can always go back,” Nicke teases back. “Maybe if you forget to swab the deck one day.”

“Me? Never.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nicke says, because he knows Andre really wouldn’t ever forget his tasks. “Now are we gonna spar or what? I have work to do.”

Andre kicks open the door and is already halfway to the deck. “You tell me.”

So Nicke follows, shaking his head, but smiling nonetheless. “Okay, okay, let’s do this.”

Andre waits until Nicke is in position, then locks eyes with him. Nicke gives him a little nod, and that’s all Andre needs to take the first jab. Nicke doesn’t go easy on him, because he knows what Andre can take and he knows what Andre wants. And he isn’t going to get any better if Nicke doesn’t go all in.

There’s no one else on this deck, just the two of them and the brush of high sky winds, crisp but thin. It sweeps Andre’s hair back, messy curls but drawn off of his face. It reveals his cheeks, red from the cold of the wind and the altitude.

But Nicke is distracted, and Andre takes full advantage of it. He gets a tap, a clean sliced motion, right along Nicke’s collarbone.

Andre’s pretty good at sparring, and Nicke knows by now that he must have some kind of formal training, so it’s not like he draws blood or anything, but Nicke knows he very well could’ve, if that was his intention.

Nicke needs to focus.

He readies, and Andre gives him the nod this time.

They go again. Then again, and again, and again. They take pause after a bit, just so Nicke can comment on Andre’s footwork, point out that his left foot is a little misplaced. Andre takes the criticism well and adjusts, then asks Nicke for feedback until he gets it right.

He learns quickly, and by the time they go again, he manages to back Nicke against the railing, blade held at his throat.

Nicke grins, even as he’s leaned over the railing. “Good work, Andre.”

“Thanks, Nicke,” Andre beams from above him. He doesn’t move, and Nicke doesn’t do anything to make him. They stay there for a minute, grinning at each other like idiots, Andre pressed up against Nicke to pin him in place.

Someone clears their throat from across the deck. They startle and pull away immediately.

“There you are, Nicke,” Alex says, a hint of smugness in his voice, in his face. Nicke glares at him, but Alex is long immune, laughs instead.

“Looking for me?” Nicke crosses his arms.

“You’ve missed supper,” Alex glances at the sky, and when Nicke looks, too, he sees that it’s nearly gone completely dark, the last hues of oranges and pinks detailing the horizon. Whoops.

“Sorry, sir,” Andre offers, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I made Nicke practice with me.”

But Alex waves a lazy hand in Andre’s direction. “Not to worry, I’m glad to see your combat coming along well.” He face Nicke again. “But we do need to work on the next clue.”

“Right,” Nicke says, tries not to sound too disappointed.

They’re starting to make their way back, but then Andre pipes up again. “Wait,” he calls out as he jogs to catch up with them. “Can I come see, too?”

Nicke raises his eyebrows, but when he looks at Alex, he’s already grinning at him. So Nicke shrugs, gives Alex a nod, lets him decide.

“Of course,” Alex reaches out and messes with Andre’s hair. “Come along.”

So Andre trots along behind them, all the way back to the Captain’s quarters. He’s very obviously forcing himself to be quiet, biting incessantly at his bottom lip, and Nicke is trying his absolute very hardest to ignore it. But Alex can tell, of course he can, and keeps sending him little knowing glances. Nicke’s going to kill him.

But that’ll have to be later, because while Andre is trying his best to stay cool and collected, Nicke doesn’t miss the way he goes wide-eyed, a little bouncy, when they reach the Captain’s quarters.

Alex kicks open the big double doors without elegance, despite the intricate woodwork designs that Andre seems to be focused on. Nicke shakes his head, tuts after Alex to be more careful. He is quite obviously ignored, if the way Alex unceremoniously drops a stack of books is anything to go by.

“I’m not going to lie, I am a little stumped,” Alex admits, glaring at the spread of papers laid out on his table.

Nicke comes around to Alex’s side. He hasn’t made much progress since Nicke had left, but there’s a few more passages, annotated in fresh ink, stacked along the side. He tries to go everything again, tries to make a connection, but nothing seems to click.

Neither of them notice Andre come up at the other side, neither catch him peering at their work.

“But what about that,” Andre says after a moment, breaking the silence. He points at one of Alex’s pages then nods vaguely at the map.

Nicke looks at him, surprised that he actually even looked. But Alex has transcended that, more focused on the task at hand than the boy across from them. He picks up the page, reads it to himself, then looks in the direction Andre had indicated.

“Oh you clever boy,” Alex mumbles, the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Alex puts his finger on one part of the map, a jut along a coastline, a snaggled shape. “Here, yes?”

Andre must not have expected his findings to actually have merit, because he makes a surprised face. “Yes, but… wait, really?”

Alex doesn’t hold back now, is practically gleeful. He reaches across and pats Andre on the shoulder, uninhibited. “That has to be it, I mean, look here,” Alex tilts the page toward Nicke and points at a particular line.

The gears start turning, and when Nicke looks at the place on the map, it makes sense. There’s the click.

“That’s it, you’re right, that has to be it.” Nicke doesn't hesitate in marking the map, gets to work on setting their new route.

When he finally has a moment to look up, Andre is still there, a small smile on his face.

“Good work, kid,” Nicke says, genuine.

“Thanks, Nicke.”

 

~

 

It’s the first time they’ve docked since they’d found Andre, and most of the crew has gone out for the night to raise havoc in the port taverns, so Nicke is a little surprised to find Andre still on deck.

“Hey,” Nicke calls out. Andre startles, from where he’s perched, relaxed on a stack of crates.

“I thought you’d be in town,” Andre says, as Nicke gets closer.

“I’d say the same for you,” Nicke counters, even as he climbs onto the the crates, too. Andre scoots, makes room for him without being asked. In fact, once Nicke gets settled, Andre leans into him, rests his head on his shoulder.

Nicke tenses at first, startled, but quickly makes it go away, leans more into Andre, maybe for good measure, maybe more for himself.

Andre sighs next to him, but it’s the good kind of the sigh, the content kind. He looks up to the sky. “They’re beautiful,” Andre says, quiet, but it sounds a little confessional, in a way.

“Mhm,” Nicke agrees. There’s a beat, while he searches the skies. Eventually, he lands on one constellation, twinkly faintly to the west. “That one, that’s my favorite.”

Craning his neck back to see, Andre follows his trail of vision. “[ Aquila ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aquila_\(constellation\))?”

“That’s the one,” Nicke confirms, cheek brushing over Andre’s hair as he nods. “Leads me home.”

“Oh,” Andre blinks. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but he breathes, steady, and Nicke focuses on that. Then, a few moments later, “I can’t remember which way is home.”

Nicke blinks at him. “Well we just came from the East, it’s probably one of those,” he waves at the eastward sky, opposite from where he’d noted Aquila.

But Andre shakes his head. “Oh, well that’s not my _home_ home. I haven’t been home in a while,” Andre says a little wistfully. “I miss it, and I’d go back if I could, but it’s too late now, I think.”

“You can’t?” Nicke feels like he shouldn’t push, but.

Andre exhales, and it’s like he physically opens up to him, then, the words fall from his mouth in a rush. “I haven’t been completely honest, about who I am, I mean,” Andre says. Nicke makes to sit up, but Andre sets a hand on his chest until he settles back down.

“I’m a long way separated from my people,” Andre starts again. “And I doubt that I’m missed much, but,” he pauses, takes a breath, “I miss them more than I care to admit.”

“Your people?” Nicke repeats as everything starts to fall into place. “You’re not a,” he chokes on the word, “are you?”

But Andre bites his lip, nods once. “I am, I suppose, but I guess it’s more like _was_ than _is_. My sister’s the one in line for the throne. I’m just, well,” he stops, laughs mirthlessly, “I’m just the troublemaker.”

Nicke pulls him in closer. “Tell me how you left?”

Andre sucks in a deep breath. “I wouldn’t say I left…”

And, oh. “Andre?”

“Pirates, you know how it goes,” Andre shrugs. “But like I said, I’m good at making trouble.”

There’s some pain, there’s some hardship, and Nicke suddenly sees so much of himself right there, in a reflection of Andre. His heart tugs, squeezed tight in his chest.

But. “So why did you trust us?”

It’s like that’s the question that Andre had been waiting for all along, because he’s ready for it. “It’s only fitting that I leave the same way I came, yeah?” He turns into Nicke, doesn’t think twice when he wraps his limbs around Nicke, tangles with him. Nicke doesn’t move, but he lets him, isn’t surprised this time. “Besides, I’ve been out here long enough that I can sense a good man when I see one.”

Nicke carefully wraps an arm around his shoulders now, breathes into his scalp. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. He knows Andre knows what he’s thinking, knows Andre doesn’t need him to say it.

After some time, Andre buries his face in Nicke’s chest. There’s a beat, but then he’s murmuring, barely decipherable, into the fabric of Nicke’s shirt. “It’s always the same sky, though. Same stars.”

And Nicke blinks. It’s not original or anything, but the way Andre says it is obvious, it’s a comfort, it’s a _vulnerability_ , and it’s something he’s only very carefully chosen to share with Nicke.

“You’re right,” Nicke whispers into his hair. “Wherever you go, you’ll always be connected. By the same sky, same stars.”

“Mhm,” Andre affirms, muffled.

Nicke pets a hand over his hair, lets it go further, running over his back. Soothing, as much as he can.

“Wherever you go, the stars are the same as home. They _are_ home,” Nicke continues to ramble.

Andre makes another noise, but Nicke can’t make it out this time. But that’s okay, he’ll take it. They’re quiet now, maybe just savoring whatever moment they’re sharing, maybe both fearful it won’t last. But maybe that’s what makes Nicke that much more daring, that much more willing to take the risk.

He’s not sure if Andre is asleep or not, but he does it anyway, kisses the top of Andre’s head, quick and chaste.

He might just be feelings things, but he thinks Andre smiles against his chest.

 

~

 

It’s not like anything changes overnight, not completely, anyway.

Andre is looser, cheerier, more generally speaking. He pokes more fun at Nicke, even more than he had originally. He likes to push his buttons, likes to rile him up. But Nicke somehow never gets angry or annoyed, and perhaps that’s what most strange about this.

He just can’t help but be _endeared_ , and Alex seems to have known this all along. Now _that_ is what’s actually annoying here.

“I don’t know how you knew, but you did this on purpose,” Nicke accuses him, while they’re going over route maps.

“Oh Nicke,” Alex grins, “that’s not how you say ‘thank you,’ no?”

“Fuck off,” Nicke huffs. “I don’t know how you even do these things.”

Alex shoves at his arm. “Cheer up, I just want you to be happy,” Alex makes a pointed face at him. “And Andre makes you happy, do not lie to me.”

Nicke considers this, then looks away. “He does.”

“See?” Alex grins again. “Always trust your captain.”

Nicke rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue this time.

 

~

 

It's nearly impossible to find privacy on a pirate ship, no matter the hour of the day, but perhaps this is where the perks of being first mate finally come through. Nicke has his own quarters, and soon enough, Andre becomes his regular guest. It's not even like they do anything scandalous. Well, at least most of the time, anyway. But more often than not it's just supper by themselves, or Andre nudging his way under the covers when it's time to go to sleep. It's Andre just being here, existing, with him, in some semblance of their own little bubble.

It's also kissing Andre senseless, lazy hours where Nicke's free to tangle his finger in Andre's hair and pull him in close as much as he likes, without any risk of disturbance.

Andre likes it when Nicke takes his time, starts chaste and slow but works at it, builds it up, until Andre's lips are wet and swollen red, until Andre looks absolutely wrecked for him, by him. But he does this thing, when they finally pull away for air, where he blinks at Nicke with big eyes, just this side of pouty. It always, without a doubt, does something for Nicke, and it works every single time.

Because Andre knows Nicke by now, because he knows how to push the proper buttons to get the correct response, it's almost impossible not to feel absolutely everything for this boy. Nicke's taught him a lot about sailing, about the skies, sure, but Andre continues to teach him a lot about a lot of other things. About them.

One of Nicke's favorite things isn't even the kissing and all (although he loves that, too). It's the moments after, when he has Andre tucked under his chin, against his chest, with Nicke's porthole propped open just a little bit. The starlight always seems brighter up here, and it isn't' shy when it leaks in, crisp but familiar in shadow-edged figures across the room, across the sheets. Andre likes to see them, likes them to be one of the last things he sees before he goes to sleep. 

Nicke likes them, too, but he never falls asleep to them the way Andre does.

At least, not when he has Andre right there beside him. 

 

~

 

Andre is the one to let Nicke know that they’ve spotted their next port, just a dot on the horizon, but close enough to begin descent. He’s giddy, when he rises Nicke out of his sleep, the hour much too early for sunlight. But Nicke blinks awake and lets Andre guide him above deck.

They’ve docked a few times with Andre now, enough that it’s routine. Andre’s been promoted to part-time navigation, even, with how he knows his way around the ship. He learns quickly, and it’s easy for Nicke to dedicate time to teach him, trusts him enough to know he’ll do everything he can until he can get it down.

But this port is different, this port is The One.

This port is the final clue. It’s the Grail.

Nicke kind of can’t believe it, to be quite honest. And when Andre presses their sides together, right alongside him at the navigation deck, he _really_ can’t believe it.

They work in a comfortable silence, just the two of them getting the ship ready to make landfall. The winds are soft, a barely-there breeze that pinks up Andre’s cheeks in a way that Nicke has grown to look forward to.

He watches as Andre starts to shift the sails, the muscle on his arms finer than when they’d first met. They strain as he tugs on the ropes, familiar long fingers quick and nimble as they get the knots done up, efficient.

“You ready?” Andre says, when he comes up behind him, finished with his end. Nicke’s got a hand steady on the wheel, but his head is turned, eyes focused on Andre.

“Let’s do this.”

 

~

 

By the time they land, the sun has come up and most of the crew is on deck, preparing the vessel for the usual docking routine. It hasn’t been their longest stretch between ports, but the water supply can be always be refilled and they can never have enough rations.

It’s mostly busy work, though, because the whole crew knows what’s happening today. The whole crew has anticipated this day since the minute they set foot on Alex’s ship.

It’s time to finally retrieve the Stanley Grail.

Alex is the worst of them all, practically bouncing from port to starboard.

“Nicke, Nicke,” he says, clings to the lapels on Nicke’s jacket. “We’re here, we’re actually here.”

Nicke can’t help but smile. He knows they’re not there yet, they haven’t done it yet, but. They’re almost there, so close he can taste it. It’s been so many years, the longest journey of them all, but he knows it’s almost over.

He knocks on wood, when Alex doesn’t notice.

Andre comes up then, bright and cheery and anxious to jump off the side of the shit and hit the ground running. Between the two of them, Nicke’s not sure how he’s managing this.

“Let’s go,” Andre tugs at them, one hand on each of their sleeves. “Come on, we’re ready to go.”

Alex doesn’t have to be told twice, so that leaves Nicke, dutifully following after them.

 

~

 

It should’ve been easy.

After everything they’ve been through, it should’ve been easy.

 

~

 

It’s not like the Stanley Grail is just sitting there, waiting for them at the port. They still have to go out there, follow the clues, and, you know, _find_ it. Which, even with a lead on the clue and more maps than they can carry with them, proves to be quite difficult.

And there’s the part where Andre hates the forest.

“Land sucks,” he whines, for the millionth time.

“Humans are meant to be on land, you know,” Alex tries.

But Andre won’t have it, sick of the Earth under his feet. “There’s a reason I jumped on a sky ship.”

Nicke makes a face. “That’s the only reason?”

And Alex laughs. “Careful, Andre, you’re going to hurt Nicke’s feelings.”

Andre rolls his eyes and shoves at Nicke a little. “There were lots of sky ships.”

“You just like the sky and the stars,” Nicke accuses, but it’s teasing now, “you only pretend to like us.”

“Not all of you,” Andre says easily, “I only pretend to like you, Nicke.”

Alex laughs at that, even as he steps around a particularly terrible looking area of brush. Andre makes a face as he strides over it, and Nicke isn’t paying as much attention, traipses right on top of it with a loud crunch.

And they go on like that, Andre complaining about the terraining and wishing they were back in the sky, closer to the stars where the wind can blow his hair around the way he likes. The he knows Nicke likes. Alex keeps poking fun when necessary, and Nicke tries to keep them focused.

They keep going like that, until the sun begins to set and Alex decides it’d be better to return to the ship and start over in the morning. Andre tries to hide his relief, which isn’t too difficult when he can bury it under mild disappointment, but Nicke knows him better than that.

So they return back to their docking point, just as nightfall hits and the stars begin to appear, one by one, in the sky. Honestly, Nicke’s ready to go straight to bed, supper be damned. He kind of hopes Andre’s down to come with him. Not for anything other than to cuddle and go the fuck to sleep, of course.

Which is why he’s a little caught off guard when he spots another ship, docked at the port next to them. It’s otherwise empty, so Nicke is immediately suspicious.

They’re greeted shortly by the couple of crewmembers they’d left behind to keep the ship.

“Sir,” one says, directed at Nicke, specifically, even with Alex at his side. Nicke raises a brow in question.

The guy flicks a glance to Andre, then back to Nicke. “There’s some people who,” he pauses, unsure how to articulate it. He starts again, “they’d like to speak with Andre.”

Nicke’s eyes go wide. “Who are they,” he asks cautiously.

The crewie swallows. “It’s his family, sir.”

Nicke swallows.

 

~

 

Andre doesn’t hesitate, he demands to see them immediately. Nicke makes sure he has his sword on him (“Of course, Nicke, I’m not an idiot. You’ve taught me better, you know that”). They get into it, because Nicke wants to send a couple of guys with Andre, but eventually he loses that fight, and Andre debarks, insisting to go alone.

“Promise me you’ll come back tonight?” Nicke says, just as Andre’s about to climb over the railing. He knows how he sounds, he knows his voice shakes, but he doesn’t care.

Andre freezes, then swings his leg back over. He goes for it, hugs Nicke, arms around his neck. He kisses him, once, closed-mouthed and chaste, but meaningful.

“Of course,” Andre assures him, close enough that his lips still brush against Nicke’s. “I’m coming back to you, I promise.”

Nicke inhales through his nose, doesn’t care that Andre can hear it, feel it.

When they part, Andre is a little bit more calculated, drawing it out as he climbs back over. Nicke moves to railing to watch him, doesn’t take his eyes off him.

“I love you,” he says, quiet, perhaps not audible at all.

But Andre looks up then, like he sensed it more than he heard it. “Love you, too, Nicke. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Nicke watches him go.

 

~

 

Andre does come back that night, but.

For the last time.

 

~

 

Nicke doesn’t quite know how they got here.

That is, _here_ , where Andre fits so comfortably in his lap like it’s where he’s meant to be. There’s a pang in Nicke’s chest because it feels so _right_ , feels so _correct_ , but he knows it can’t last. It’s a tease of perfection, of wholeness, and it’s cruel, to not know if he’ll ever have this again.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Andre interrupts him, and Nicke feels bad, because he wants this final memory to be a good one, wants Andre to remember him well. He kisses him, and tries not to feel the melancholy wrapped up in the spark between them.

He forces a smile, hopes Andre can’t see it, because Andre will see right through it, he knows he will. But luckily, Andre is focused on the skies. When Nicke follows his gaze, it lands on one constellation in particular, twinkling brighter than the rest. Aquila.

“Same sky, same stars,” Nicke says.

He closes his eyes, focuses on the feeling of Andre in his arms while he still can.

 

~

 

Nicke lets him go.

 

~

 

Andre leaves, and it’s like all the luck they’ve collected leaves with him.

They spend a few more days searching the area, but the Stanley Grail is nowhere to be found. Alex nearly rips up the entirety of his quarters trying to re-figure this clue, but it’s to no avail. Nicke does his best, but his own frustrations drive him up a wall.

Besides, he’s a little emotionally unavailable right now, okay? Not that he’d ever admit it, but. It’s hard to focus when he’s a little distracted.

Eventually, Alex decides to pull the plug and relocate the ship. This expanse of land is pretty big, if they dock on the other side it might be better. It might jog something. A change of scenery, another chance.

They’re back in the sky quickly enough, but Nicke can’t help but feel a hole where Andre should be. He should be the one tying up the sails, he should be the one beside him at the wheel, he should be the one bugging him to spar.

Nicke knows he’s just not over it, but he can’t help but feel a pull in his stomach, an uneasiness, like something is wrong and he shouldn’t have let Andre go. It’s been recurring, honestly, ever since Andre had left, so he doesn’t think much of it. Not today.

Not until he hears someone yelling from the lookout nest, waving wildly toward another ship in the sky.

It’s a bit further up, a safe enough altitudinal difference that it shouldn’t be cause for alarm. But then Nicke tries to focus on what the crewie is saying. He still can’t make it out, but he’s making a spyglass motion. Nicke’s smart enough to know what that means.

He doesn’t hesitate, pulls his from his coat pocket and aims it toward the other ship.

The markings on the side, the wood, the sails. It’s strangely familiar. But then Nicke recognizes a figure at the railing, waving an orange tatter of cloth off the side of the ship.

Nicke would know him anywhere.

He’s clutching something in his other arm, but Nicke’s a little too distracted by the makeshift distress signal.

“Someone get Alex,” Nicke pulls at one of his men. “That’s Andre.”

That’s Andre, and he needs them. He needs him. He needs _Nicke_.

Nicke calls up Tom to keep an eye on Andre through the spyglass while Nicke focuses on navigating. It’s tough, getting close enough to another ship when they’re both in full sail. Nicke manages to force a quick ascension while Alex orders the crew to get ready for a mid-flight boarding.

But the other ships seems to catch on, and it’s clear that it’s starting to avoid them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Nicke mumbles, doesn’t take his eyes off Andre, who continues to stay right there at the railing, but ducks to keep out of sight.

“He’s fine for now,” Tom says, must feel the worry radiating off of Nicke. “We’re almost there.

“Almost isn’t enough,” Nicke spits back. Tom sighs, but Nicke knows he’s frustrated, too.

After a few more minutes trying to catch up to the other ship, just out of reach, Tom grabs at him, frantic. “They’re on to him, they’re going to find him. We have to do something now.”

Nicke takes the spyglass from him, looks for himself. And sure enough, there’s guards on Andre’s deck now, it’s only a matter of time before they find him. Nicke swallows.

“Can he see us?” Nicke says, quickly.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure he can.” Tom emphasizes this by waving at Andre, who immediately waves back, quick and short.

“Okay,” Nicke breathes, more to himself, “okay.” He waves at Andre this time, waits for Andre to wave back. When he does, he points downward, motions it over and over again.

“He’s giving a thumbs up,” Tom relays to him, back on the spyglass. “Whatever you’re planning, he’s ready.”

“Good,” Nicke says. “Then begin descent.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Nicke says, hard. “I said being descent, and set full sail ahead.”

“Yes, sir,” Tom says, shaky, but quickly begins relaying the order.

Soon enough, they’ve dropped just below the other ship, but met its speed. It happens in minutes, but it feels like they’re out of time. Nicke takes a deep breath. “Okay Andre,” he looks up, but can no longer see him. “It’s up to you now.”

Every second that nothing happens, Nicke thinks he’s made a mistake.

But then.

“Holy shit,” Tom says next to him. “Andre’s climbing over the railing, sir.”

Nicke looks up. “Come on, Andre, come on.”

Andre jumps.

 

~

 

There’s a split second where Nicke thinks he’s made the wrong call.

But it’s silly, to think such a thing, when he knows Andre better than he knows himself. And, after all, that boy had learned the sails like the back of his hand, had learned the whole layout of the ship, from top to bottom.

Andre had always known exactly what to do, and Nicke had known that.

Everyone starts to freak out, when they see Andre free falling off the side of the other ship, just as the guards peer over the railing. He’s still clutching something under his arm, big and unmanageable. Nicke hadn’t accounted for that, whatever it is, and if he wasn’t so worried, he’d be getting ready to chew Andre out the minute he sees him again.

But Andre and his treasure manage to land right on the mainsail, and it threatens to tear, but Andre knows better, anticipates this. He grabs at the rope with his free hand as soon as he can, swings a little precariously, but manages to steady himself until it settles.

He’s laughing, grinning wildly, cocky and sure, but mostly just happy to be alive.

Only then does Nicke exhale, and he thinks he might’ve forgotten to breathe that whole time.

But they’re not done yet, he’s sure Andre can handle himself from here, so he turns to Tom. “Pull back, begin descent. We have to lose these guys.” Tom nods and turns back to the crew.

“Hey,” and there’s Alex, at his side. “You go meet Andre, I’ll take it from here.” He takes the wheel of Nicke, pushes him away gently. “Go.”

Nicke doesn’t need to be told again.

 

~

 

The first thing Nicke does is grab Andre by the shoulders and kiss him until he can’t breathe.

The second thing he does is look at the object Andre had felt so strongly about bringing along. But when sees it—

“Is that—?” He stops, eyes going wide.

Andre grins at him, proud. “I think you were looking for this? Just a souvenir I picked up.”

“Andre…” Nicke doesn’t let go of him, holds onto his hand tighter even, but he drags him with when he goes up to the hunk of silver, shining at him like a taunt.

The Stanley Grail.

“How did you manage that,” Nicke finally breaks, laughing wildly, turning back to Andre.

But Andre just shrugs, like it’s absolutely everything.

“They had it on the ship,” Andre explains. “They were following us, I think, and managed to find it before us.”

“Your family?”

Andre makes a face. “It was a ruse.” He shuts down a little, looks away. But he composes himself and goes in to bury his face in Nicke’s neck again, holds on tight like he might lose him again. Not that Nicke would let that happen, not ever again.

“I’m glad you found me,” Andre says, muffled into Nicke’s coat.

Nicke takes a breath, ignores Alex and the rest of the crew as they finally being to arrive, eyes drifting from Andre to the Grail, sitting neatly beside them. But it’s not important, because Andre is here, in Nicke’s arms, where he always should’ve been.

Alex smiles at him, at them, then waves away the rest of the crew. The Stanley Grail can wait.

Nicke kisses the top of Andre’s head.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

  
  


_(end)_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A big shout out to the mods for arranging ALLCAPS 2018, and another shoutout to the Caps for finally finding their own Stanley Grail ;-) To xabier, I hope I did these two justice and I hope you enjoyed!!!
> 
> Title is from _Hypnotised_ by Years  & Years.  
> I'll drop my fic socials here after reveals <3


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